


Love is strength

by cassiopeia221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeia221B/pseuds/cassiopeia221B





	

Sherlock sat curled up in his chair, scowling absently at the yellow flames that were dancing fiercely in the fireplace. Pondering about the events of the past few days, about John, who after everything that they had been through decided to return back to Baker Street. But much to Sherlock’s disappointment, nothing was the way it had used to be before. Ever since John had returned, he seemed to be different, _avoiding_ Sherlock.

Music sometimes helped Sherlock to think more clearly but the piece that he had set to play this time had precisely the opposite effect on his mind. Sherlock very quickly realised that choosing that particular piece was a mistake but he was too immersed in the melody already to turn it off and listen to the raindrops drumming monotonically on the window instead.

He was so lost in his thoughts so he didn’t even notice that he wasn’t alone any longer. He didn’t perceive until John piped up, his soft albeit exhausted voice snapping him out of brooding.

“Sherlock, what are you doing here?“

“Hm?“ For a moment he was sure that he must have imagined that, he had got used to that, but once Sherlock lifted his head, he could tell he wasn’t just dreaming. John was standing there in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a slightly concerned expression on his face. From what Sherlock could deduce, John couldn’t sleep again, nor he really tried to since he hadn’t even bothered to change into sleepwear. He was still wearing the same navy blue jumper he had worn for the entire day, his hair was still slicked back and bags under his eyes even more prominent than usually.

Sherlock threw him only a brief glance, however, almost as if he was afraid of staring for far too long and giving away something he had no intention to yet. But even after he retreated to gazing at the fire he could sense that John just furrowed his brow, he was perplexed and perhaps even a little more worried than before.

“Are you all right?“

Sherlock let out a tired sigh. It was ridiculous. _He_ was the one who was supposed to ask these kind of questions and yet, despite being in such a bad place himself, John didn’t stop proving himself to be the most caring and considerate person under the sun.

“ _I_ am fine, John. I was just… thinking,“ he shrugged at last.

He didn’t even need to give John another look to know exactly what was about to follow. John shuffled his feet, his eyes fixed on the floor and two words, merely whispered timidly, escaping his mouth.

“About what?“

Sherlock flashed him rather a wry smile, instead of offering an actual answer. Not that he could speak anyway, not through the knot in his throat. He was eager to change the topic as soon as possible, perhaps ask what had prompted John to climb down the stairs and attempt to start a conversation in the middle of night, especially since he had spent the past two days avoiding doing so at all cost, but almost as if John could read his mind, he replied to his thoughts before Sherlock even managed to utter a single word.

“You don’t need to explain anything if you don’t want to, I just… look, Sherlock, I-I didn’t want to bother you, I wasn’t even sure what you were doing but… I’ve been thinking as well, _a lot_ , when suddenly I, well, -“ John gulped, beckoning toward the music player on the desk, “I just heard _that_ and it brought back some memories and I just had to-“

“You _remember_?“ Sherlock blinked, astonished. “You-you remember this piece?“

John chuckled sadly, talking to the floor again rather than Sherlock himself. As it seemed, Sherlock wasn’t the only one hesitating to make eye contact at the moment.

“Of course I do remember, Sherlock. It’s the first one you played when teaching me how to dance. I’ve always loved it. Simple but... _perfect_. Beautiful.“ With that John lifted his eyes, gazing at Sherlock so intently, so fondly so Sherlock’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest, hammering hard, louder than the music itself.

He looked so small and vulnerable, sitting there, hugging his knees, his face so innocent and soft and eyes tender and shining like billions of stars. John was desperate to approach him and take him into his arms and hold him, hold him until the end of time.

But neither of them moved. In fact, neither of them dared to say another word until Sherlock averted his eyes again, anxiously squirming in his chair.

“I _am_ rather proud of it,“ Sherlock mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his gown. “Listening to such music… One can hardly resist to...“

“Resist what?“

Sherlock pursed his lips. “ _Dance_. Obviously.“

For the first time since John entered the room Sherlock couldn’t figure what was going through his head, nor whether he was frowning or smiling. But he took no risk of looking.

Not even once after he could hear a shaky sigh followed by few wary steps, failing to comprehend what could John’s intention be until he appeared in front of his chair, saying no words but stretching out his hand. Trembling nervously, but still waiting patiently for Sherlock‘s reaction.

Sherlock opened his mouth only to close it again, swallowing dryly before finally locking their eyes again.

“Wh-what are you doing, John?“

John shook his head. “Trust me that I have _no_ idea but... I just look at you and I… God, Sherlock, please, will you do this for me?“

“D-do-do what?“

“ _Dance_ with me, please.“

“You-But...but _why_?“

“You just said so yourself. One can hardly resist to, listening to such music _._ “

Sherlock blinked up at him, his own body betraying him. He was aware of how stupidly he must have looked but for a couple of moments he was capable of no more but staring petrified in shock at John. It wasn’t until John nearly gave up that he finally gathered up enough courage to reach for his hand, trying not to thinking about what reasons either of them had. He was drawn to John, like a moth to the flame.

“I’ll lead. If I may?“ John suggested, once after they stood still in the middle of the room already, ever so gently, carefully placing his hand on Sherlock’s waist. John couldn’t not notice the light shade of pink his cheeks were painted with. He could feel Sherlock shivering beneath his touch, his breath quickening and his eyes... avoiding John’s at all cost.

“Hey, are you okay?“

Sherlock wavered a moment before giving a small nod. “It’s okay, do go on, please.“

“Are you sure?“

“Yes-“

“We don’t have to if-“

“ _John_ ,“ Sherlock yelped, shortening what little of gap was left between them. “ _Go on_.“

John opened his mouth again but there seemed to be no more words left to say. He squeezed Sherlock’s hand a little tighter before they swayed and twirled together to the rhythm of the music. John leading and Sherlock following, the two of them soon moving in unison, their bodies becoming one for what felt like eternity.

And yet there was nothing near perfect about their dance. Sherlock still couldn’t bring himself to meet John’s eyes, he stared down at their moving feet instead. But he couldn’t hide his face completely. John could swear there were tears glimmering in his gloomy eyes. The mere notion of Sherlock fighting an urge to cry broke his heart, he felt as if he was about to combust if neither of them were about to say anything.

Whether it was a good idea or not, John couldn’t tell, but as soon as the music faded off he let go off Sherlock’s hand and immediately reached to cradle his face instead.

“Sherlock… Sherlock, please, look at me.“ His voice was shaking almost as much as his fingers tracing a line down Sherlock’s crimson cheek. Ever so tenderly he gripped Sherlock’s chin, slowly, gently tilting his head.

“Please tell me what’s going on.“

It was difficult to concentrate on anything but John’s warm touch. Sherlock took a couple of long, deep breaths, almost as if he had to brace himself before offering a reply.

“ _You_ tell me, what’s going on, John,“ he muttered, his voice hoarse and cracking under the weight of emotions.

“I-I thought… John, I thought that everything was going to be the same like before. I thought that you were going to move back in and we – we were about to... live like we had used to before. It was _you_ who wanted to return in the first place but now… now you act like you’d rather be anywhere else. At least you were up until ten minutes ago. Which is frankly, a tad confusing. As difficult as it is, to admit that.“

“ _Sherlock_...“

“Tell me, am I doing something wrong? I don’t understand,“ Sherlock lamented, tears sparkling in his eyes. Once after he finally lifted his gaze again, there was no doubt about how hurt and insecure he really felt.

“Sherlock… Christ, you’re doing nothing wrong,“ John gasped, his fingers aching to stroke up Sherlock’s cheek again but he decided to withdraw instead.

“Is that so?“

“Of _course_ , I-I do want to stay here, is that… is that not obvious?“

“You and I, John, have evidently a very different opinion of what _is_ obvious and what is not.“

John opened his mouth to retort, but decided against it in the end. It was futile, attempting to express himself with words, he had never been good at that, but the silence that had descended was far too heavy and awkward for him to do nothing but give in and stand idly. It was like an impulse, to wrap both his arms around Sherlock, and hold him tight and close, hiding his face into the crook of Sherlock’s neck.

“Obvious enough?“ John murmured. He could feel Sherlock stiffening for a moment, leaving out a small, surprised whimper but once John ever so soothingly ran a hand down his back, he melted into his embrace as if the heaviest burden was lifted off his shoulders. He seemed to relax enough to put his arms around John’s waist, first too shy to pull John even closer but after a moment he tightened his grip as well.

“Good God,“ John sobbed in relief, “Sherlock, _I missed you_. I missed you _so much._ “

“You missed me...“

“More than you can imagine.“

“But I thought-“

“I know, I know... I am sorry, Sherlock I am _sorry._ “ John drew back, so he could look Sherlock in the eyes again.

“I am so sorry for making you think that I don’t want to be here with you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, I chose to avoid you at first, because I was too… afraid,“ John sighed, flashing Sherlock a bashful glance. “I was afraid because there’s something, something important I need to tell you, in fact, I wanted to tell you the moment I came back home, I just didn’t know _how_. I thought I was going to ruin everything. But, whatever the risk, I can’t pretend any longer.“

“Tell me? Tell me what?“ Sherlock gulped.

John smiled, ruefully. “Something I should have told you ages ago.“

“W-well,“ Sherlock cleared his throat, nearly out of breath by the time John shortened the distance between their faces, leaving only a couple of inches between their lips. Sherlock felt his cheeks burning, he was glad for the light in the room being so dim so John couldn’t notice. At least he thought John couldn’t.

“I-I-I assume it has nothing to do with not paying rent and keeping human-human body parts in the fridge.“

“No, I -“ John couldn’t help but titter, “are you doing that on purpose?“

Sherlock frowned. “Doing what?“

“Trying to make me laugh to make it easier for me to talk.“

“I do that?“

“Yes, and it’s _working_. I feel much better now. Sherlock, you make _everything_ better,“ John said, reaching for Sherlock’s hand again, grasping his wrist ever so carefully, his thumb brushing Sherlock’s in the most calming pace.

“Ever since I returned, these words were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell you... how lost I had been without you, how much I had been missing you. How empty my life without you is. How much I need you… I- I _know_ , you don’t feel like _that_ about me but-“

“ _John_ -“

“-but if I continue concealing these feelings for you for one more bloody second I might choke... I- Christ, I can’t live without you, I need you by my side, always, all the time, Sherlock, I... _Sherlock, I love you_.“

Sherlock seemed to froze upon hearing those words, his eyes glassy, full of tears and lips wobbling in shock. The mere sight sent shivers down John’s spine. He was convinced that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, his left fist clenching and unclenching frantically as the result.

“Sherlock? Sherlock, please say something-“

Sherlock’s face was completely unreadable, pale and stiff, he all but stared agape at John for solid fifteen seconds until he finally brought himself to open his mouth and offer a response, one that John had never expected to receive.

“ _I..._ _I_ _love you too_.“

John took a step back in shock, gasping confusedly but no actual words left his throat.

“Yes. I love you too. I love you, John,“ Sherlock repeated, emphasising each word. It wasn’t until he actually heard himself confessing that he realised what he had just decide to do. But it wasn’t regret what he felt, it was relief. Once he made that first crucial step, there was no force on Earth or elsewhere capable of stopping him.

“S-so-“

“Yes, I do, I do, feel like _that_ about you,“ Sherlock sighed heavily, blinking away the tears. His throat was sore and voice raspy but it didn’t prevent him from continuing. “I’ve always have. I’ve always loved you. I… I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself, not least to you. I thought it was an error. In fact, I even _refused_ to properly name that feeling at first, for years actually, but not any longer. It’s clear, clear as crystal, why I feel so… _giddy_ whenever you smile at me, why I feel so _safe_ and _content_ and... _happy_ with you. For God’s sake, yes, it’s love. I - I am... in _love_ with you, John.“

John could feel his own hear thudding loudly and vigorously in his ears, breath hitching and tears bursting out of his eyes but he wasn’t ashamed of crying. He had used to hold back and hide his tears from the world, just like Sherlock, but this time, this time he chose to finally let go.

“God, Sherlock, why didn’t you-“

“Well, why didn’t _you_?“ Sherlock sobbed, tossing his arms in the air. “ _Fear_ , John. I’ve been scared. I’ve never felt like that before. Before I met you, there had been no one like you.“

“No one?“ John sniffed.

“Of course _not_. Before I met you I thought that allowing myself to love anyone openly was a mistake, a weakness, John. Not that there _was_ anyone to love. No one has ever made me feel like you. So… alive and worthy and cherished for who I am. I’ve never felt like that before. Everybody… hated me. And I thought they had the right,“ he bowed his head sadly, a sight that made John’s heart ache.

“I thought I was never meant to love and be loved by anybody, not even myself. Turns out I’ve been waiting for _you_ my whole life to prove me wrong. What I’ve realised is… loving you has never made me weaker, it made me stronger, John. It took me years, but I understand now, thanks to you. Falling in love with you, that wasn’t a mistake, I know now, but being afraid of accepting it, that _was_. But I am not afraid of confessing any more. Love is... strength, it is, it’s beautiful, it’s pure, it’s the force that pushes you forward no matter what, it’s something... something I thought I didn’t deserve, but… it wasn’t true. People were wrong, _I_ was wrong. I do deserve love. Love brought me back to life, John, _you_ did. I love you more than I thought it was possible.“

“Christ, Sherlock, come here.“

John didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them again. This time it was Sherlock hugging him first, allowing both John and himself to finally cry and weep loudly and let the stream of tears fall down their cheeks for a couple of long, long moments.

“You deserve all the love in the world, Sherlock.“

“Knowing that _you_ love me back is enough,“ Sherlock confessed, shutting his eyes tight for a brief second. “I thought you didn’t… I didn’t know-“

“Oh, but I do, I love you, I love you so much Sherlock,“ John murmured into Sherlock’s shoulder, before pulling back just a couple of inches, so their eyes met again and John could finally say what he had been preparing for, for such a long time already.

“Ever since that moment I walked into that lab, I was all yours. I knew it that very second I first looked into your eyes. Before _I_ met _you_ I had been out of hope, Sherlock. Until that very moment I didn’t have the will to live, but-“ John tittered quietly, “turns out I’ve been waiting for my whole life as well. For _you_. You’ve always been my chance at a better life, the one and only person who gave me the hope I needed. All I need is _you_ , always have and always will, Sherlock. I love you, I love you, _I love you_ , you gorgeous, extraordinary, beautiful, amazing, magnificent man.“

Sherlock’s face split into a huge grin, he seemed to be attempting to reply but in the end, he burst into shy giggles and John soon joined him, finally releasing even the last remnants of tension.

“You-you think I am _beautiful_?“

“The most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon,“ John nodded, still smiling, his eyes gliding all over Sherlock’s face. “Your eyes, magical, mesmerising, your damn _cheekbones_ , the crinkle above your nose when you laugh, your curls, your… God, your _lips_. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined-“

“Kissing me?“

Even though unintentionally, Sherlock’s voice dropped so low so John nearly didn’t manage to stop himself from doing exactly that.

But he proceeded cautiously, circling his arms around Sherlock’s waist a little tighter, but keeping the distance, giving Sherlock all the time in the world to make the next move himself.

However alluring the temptation to lock their lips was, John didn’t want to push Sherlock, nor he wanted to do anything until he was sure that Sherlock was confident and sure enough to continue. He seemed to be still a little shy, trying to muster up enough courage, from what John could observe.

“Everything all right?“ John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, of course. I’ve just... never been kissed before,“ Sherlock shrugged but the smile on his lips didn’t disappear.

John frowned. “But-“

“That doesn’t count,“ Sherlock objected, sadly shaking his head, knowing exactly what John was about to remind him of. “No kiss I’ve ever received or gave ever counted, not least any I’ve received from _women_. Obviously. I have made that fairly clear the very first night at Angelo’s, John, that I am _gay._ Just as you have made that clear that you’re-“

“Bisexual.“

“Yes. _Bisexual_.“

“Sorry,“ John breathed out, taken back by his own words but not regretting them. Right opposite actually. “I-I needed to say that myself,“ he admitted, corners of his lips turning into a soft smile.

“It-it feels good, you know, saying that out loud. Finally,“ John sighed contentedly. “Bloody hell, Sherlock, I couldn’t be happier right now. I am so proud of both of us, I love you and you, my God, love _me_ , we have as much time as we want now, we don’t need to hurry if you don’t want to.“

Sherlock frowned a little, the noise that left his throat resembling an aborted chuckle. “Didn’t we waste enough years already, John?“

“Maybe, but-“

“I _do_ want you to kiss me, John,“ Sherlock tittered sheepishly. “I told you, it’s all right. More than all right. I’ve been waiting for years for my first real kiss. Hoping, wishing.“

“S-so I… may I?“

“You may,“ Sherlock nodded with a smile, allowing John to erase the remaining space between them.

The first touch of John’s lips was merely tentative, light and tender, but electrifying nonetheless. Sherlock could hear himself making the softest little noise, one that made John chuckle and draw back a little, the brightest grin hanging upon his face.

“God, you do realise you are actually damn adorable, right?“

“I… oh my God, John... you’re making me-“

“Blush?“ John smiled fondly, prompting Sherlock to do the same.

“You’ve noticed. That’s… embarrassing.“

“No, it’s not, of course it’s not. It’s lovely.“

“L-lovely? Since when?“

“Hmm, since about the moment I saw your cheeks turning pink for the first time,“ John chuckled.

“And you’re telling me you remember that moment?“ Sherlock’s brows knitted but the smile on his lips didn’t disappear.

“I remember, yes, I remember everything. All those moments that made my heart flutter, all those times we touched, all those times I made you laugh. But this moment, Sherlock, this moment I will remember the most.“

This time John didn’t break the kiss, this time Sherlock closed his eyes and kissed back, the most ecstatic feeling he had ever experienced. John’s lips were pliant and soft and gentle, guiding Sherlock’s until Sherlock got used to the rhythm. A moment later Sherlock found John’s fingers rushing through his hair and his other hand caressing down his cheek and jaw and neck, and his lips kissing Sherlock much more passionately, deepening the kiss. His tongue rubbed slowly across Sherlock’s bottom lip, before slipping in and teasing playfully, making Sherlock grin and laugh so much so after a couple of moments he had to pull back.

John could hardly complain however. Sherlock’s smile was the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen, bright, ecstatic and relaxed. Sherlock was glowing and John along with him. He couldn’t help but peck Sherlock’s lips again and again, pepper his flushed cheeks with myriad of butterfly kisses, kiss the tip of his nose, his chin, his eyelids the soft spot above his lips, he didn’t hesitate to raise on his tiptoes so he could reach Sherlock’s forehead either. He needed Sherlock to know how happy he was in that moment, happier than ever before. He could tell that Sherlock was as equally happy, albeit a little out of breath.

“John, John, wait-“

“Oh, did I-?“

“Make a complete mess out of me? Most certainly,“ Sherlock guffawed, wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders. “Look at me, I am a flushing, laughing, crying, soppy, hair-ruffled and lips-swollen mess.“

“You forgot to mention – _beautiful_ ,“ John remarked, chortling.

Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes a little, but still grinning. “What if we rather talked about _your_ beautiful face, hm?“ he raised his eyebrow.

“My God, Sherlock-“ John blushed, averting his eyes, but Sherlock caught him off guard, pecking his cheek ever so lightly.

“I love your face, John.“

“And _I_ ,“ John exhaled, reaching to cradle Sherlock’s face, his thumbs running across his cheekbones, “love _yours_. But no more tears, please,“ he implored, gently caressing. “I don’t ever want to see you hurt again, Sherlock. All I want to see is this gorgeous smile on your face, all the time. I am here for you, to protect you and keep you safe and happy. I know you can manage to take care of yourself, but I do want to be here for you. Always.“

Sherlock smiled. “Thank you.“

“Thank _you_. I don’t know where I would be without you right now.“

“Well,“ Sherlock cleared his throat, “I know where _I_ would be without _you_.“

“Oh, Sherlock-“

“No, John, you said so… no more tears,“ Sherlock quickly reminded him. “It’s all okay now, isn’t it? We’re here together and that’s all that matters. Please, let’s bury the past, forever. It’s only you and me now-“

“Against the rest of the world,“ John finished, pulling Sherlock into one another kiss, hand squeezing Sherlock’s nape, his other one searching for Sherlock’s hand to take.

“Will you have another dance with me now, please?“ John asked once breaking their lips, sparks twinkling in his eyes.

“How could I ever say no to that, John?“ Sherlock chortled.

“The same one then? I can’t imagine a more perfect piece of music, if I have to be honest, it’s your best-hey, why are you giggling?“

“It’s nothing… me-me neither, John.“

“Come on now, what is it, Sherlock?“ John purred, stopping halfway toward the music player.

Sherlock bit his lip, gazing down shyly. “That piece… it’s so perfect because, well, when I was composing it, I was thinking of… _you_.“

John's stomach flipped. He took a sharp breath, blinking rapidly at Sherlock but before he managed to say anything, Sherlock beat him to it.

“It’s named _John._ “

John nearly tackled Sherlock down on the floor, locking their lips in a fierce, sloppy kiss, full of tongues and cacophony of incoherent noises escaping their throats, hands searching for more contact and crumpling each other’s shirt. It was a kiss they had been waiting for, desperate, passionate, intense, lasting until they were both panting and moaning, dancing long forgotten.

Sherlock had already lost count of how many times John repeated that he loved him, uttering those words between kisses and then a dozen times again once after pulling back and lifting him up, carrying him straight to the bedroom. Their lips... never apart.


End file.
